


A Poor Stand In

by Keirra



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Claws, Food Kink, Food Sex, Hot Sex, Hot pocket calzone, Inappropriate Food Use, LITERALLY, Longing, Lost Love, Monster - Freeform, Other, Unrequited Love, Violating pastry, deshade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirra/pseuds/Keirra
Summary: Its been thousands of years since Khem Val was free without the stability and comfort of a bond and in the wake of his little sith's disappearance he isn't coping as well as he would like. Her scent teases him, as does the things she left behind and there is only so much a monster like himself can take before resorting to desperate measures.





	A Poor Stand In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pineaberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineaberry/gifts), [Cinlat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/gifts).



> Okay, so this fic is all Pineaberry's fault. I dedicate it to her in oh so many ways. A conversation about terrible smut in which a man fucked his hot pocked turned into a DARE to do better. And well, a "DARE" is something you never give me if you don't want me to follow through. Since the update just came out, and Khem is romanceable, it was only logical that he be my muse as I explore the world of fucking hot pockets. 
> 
> So yeah, if that's something you would rather not see you might not want to read this. 
> 
> Super grateful shout out to Cinlat for both encouraging and betaing this for me :D

It had been a long time since the little sith went away. Her crew tried to tell Khem that she perished, but he knew that for the lie it was. Their bond, though imperfect, raw and unfinished, was still there. It sparked in the back of his mind, reminding him of what had slipped through his claws. 

It angered Khem Val; fate’s cruel nature. Just as his little sith grew in power to rival even his lost Tulak Hord, she was snatched away. If Khem hadn’t waited for her to suit his requirements before finishing the bond, there would be nothing powerful enough to separate them - not even Mistress Death and her ravenous envy. 

But, Khem had resisted the urge to make her his, and now, she was beyond his reach. 

It was torture, finally having the freedom he had craved, but being overwhelmed by it. Khem longed for the stability of a secure bond, like the one he had shared with Tulak Hord so long ago. It had taken his Sith’s absence to realize that he could have experienced it again. 

Her scent only compounded Khem’s misery. It infused everything in her home, the only place he had to cling to since her disappearance. The power of her life force permeated everything she touched, lingering long after she was gone.

The little sith’s scent had changed since they met. It was no longer the weak aroma of a child playing at power she didn’t understand, but that of a mighty entity to be reckoned with. Her very being was infused with the pure weight of the Force, and even in her absence, it intoxicated him. 

Standing in the doorway to what was once her chambers, Khem’s senses were filled with her, but he was desperate for more. To feel her in more than just his memory, to take hold of her fragile looking body and give himself over to pleasure. It had been thousands of years since he had experienced the ecstasy of another being, warm and moist, wrapped around his. Despite his needs, Mistress Death would not allow Khem to pursue his release in another, not without a bond to sway her control. 

So, Khem had learned to make do with what he had. He took comfort in the feel of his master’s bed, the silken caress of her abandoned clothing - flimsy pieces he once criticized for their lack of protection that he now savored - and the freezer filled with her favorite food. 

Rationing the frozen entrees had been a struggle. While the perfume of her presence surrounded Khem, when they were in the express cooker, the warm scent was irresistible. It electrified Khem’s nerves, smelling the mix of his little sith and her chosen cuisine. The intimacy of sharing a meal, along with that combination was almost painfully arousing. 

After the thought had taken root in his mind, Khem couldn’t resist the urge to retreat to the kitchen for his private ritual. His movements were almost mechanical as he removed one of the last entrees from the freezer, something she called a “Hot Pocket Calzone”, and stuck it into the express cooker. Using a claw, Khem tapped the numbered buttons he had seen her do so often, before moving to lean against the counter. 

Khem’s actions mirrored hers,  _ his  _ little sith, almost like the ghost of her presence was leading him through the motions. She always hopped up on the counter opposite the express cooker to wait, kicking her feet against the cabinets and talking mindlessly to him or humming a song only she knew. 

It made no physical difference, but Khem felt closer to her when he mimicked her movements. 

The hum of the cooker filled the silence as the aroma of food and sith melded together around Khem. It engulfed his being with thrills of anticipation and longing while stoking the warm arousal in his gut. Khem felt himself hardening at the sensation and grunted, gripping the counter behind him tightly, just short of crumbling the material in his hands. 

Khem’s breath came in deep, ragged growls by the time the cooker dinged. Unable to retrain himself, he lunged across the small space to yank the door open. A wave of perfumed steam made his knees wobble slightly. 

It wasn’t his little sith, but it was warm and moist and smelled of things she loved. 

For now, that was good enough. 

Khem reached for the calzone with one hand while the other went to the clasp of his loincloth. He deftly released it to let the fabric pool at his feet. With a claw, he cut a hole in one end. Red sauce pooled from the notch, warm as it spilled across his hand. 

Khem growled, low and guttural in his chest. If he had soft skin like his little sith, the molted insides would have burnt him, but his thicker skin acted as protection. Instead of sharp pain, the heat was a pleasant tingling sensation with just enough hurt to make the Dashade’s breath catch. 

Taking himself in hand, Khem pumped his cock a few times to ensure he was ready. When he couldn’t wait any longer,  he impaled the calzone with his penis with one quick motion. 

Falling forward with a growl, Khem caught himself with one hand on the edge of the counter. The feel of the pastry, hot and moist around him, made his knees buckle. Gritting his teeth together, Khem closed his eyes to better imagine that it was his little sith, not her dinner, wrapped around him. 

Squeezing the sheath of pastry tighter, Khem pumped it along is his length. He could feel the sauce, coating him, filling dripping down his thighs, and revealed in the warmth. 

It was almost possible to make himself believe that she was there, pinned beneath him, and taking as much pleasure from their joining as he. Khem could nearly feel her clawing at his back, legs latched around his hips as he pumped mercilessly into her - the way he knew she would like it. What Khem craved most, more than the sound of her gasping his name, was the scent of her arousal. 

Khem dreamed of that scent, as much as a Dashade could dream, and ached for it every waking moment. He’d smelled it on her, on the pirate, and any other number of men she had paraded in and out of her room. None could give her what she needed, scratch the itch she suffered from, but  _ he  _ could.

Khem’s orgasm surprised him, the combination of warm friction along his cock, and the vivid image of his little sith sprawled across the counter, pushed him over the edge with a bestial snarl. The abused calzone fell apart around him, crumbling to floor in a mess of cheese, sauce, and semen. 

Opening his eyes, Khem glared at the result of his actions. Like always, it felt good in the moment, but always left him  unsatisfied. It wasn’t what Khem wanted, what he  _ needed. _ Just a poor facsimile of what should be in his life. 

“Enough,” the Dashade growled, pushing away from the counter and wiping his hand on his thigh. “If my little sith will not return to me, then I will go find her.”


End file.
